


Cichlid

by yeaka



Series: Neon Tetra [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe, Animal Ears, Animal Traits, Ficlet, Gen or Pre-Slash, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-28 11:52:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13270890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Lucis catches Verstael’s latest experiment. Noctis knows what to do with it.





	Cichlid

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I might continue this? If so, it still won’t have much plot, but oh well; I could squeeze out a few semi-related ficlets of fluff and maybe angst (and then smut); please let me know if you’re interested.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

For once, the council meeting isn’t too boring to stand, although it’s still thoroughly unpleasant, and Noctis would rather be off doing a hundred other things. He half-listens to the litany of reports that fly across the table, barely taking in the petty details—how long the raid took, how many magitek soldiers they faced, how many casualties they lost. Not that _that_ part’s petty. Just depressing. But so is the whole war, and successfully apprehending a nearby ring of spies doesn’t change that.

“Verstael was a formidable threat,” his father comments, and Noctis feels like he’s heard that name before— _should_ know it—but he doesn’t remember. “You did tremendously well with his capture.”

Standing at the other end of the too-long table, Cor bows at the waist. Noctis knows better than to hope that that praise is the end of the presentation. When Cor straightens again, he announces, “There is just... one more problem... sire.”

Noctis glances at his father, who shows no reaction. Ignis, sitting next to him—the sole reason Noctis was dragged to attendance in the first place—seems to sit a little straighter. 

Cor seems to hesitate with his wording, which, as far as Noctis knows, isn’t like him. “There was one, uh... outlier... among the prisoners we took. It seems that Verstael was conducting new experiments—” Several fists tighten against the tabletop, council members leaning forward in tense anticipation. Cor shows no such fear, only explains, “This one... wasn’t a daemon, Your Majesty. It speaks like any of us, or close enough to, only...”

“Yes?” Noctis’ father finally prompts, which seems to spur Cor past his hesitation.

“He appears to be half cat, sire.” 

Silence echoes throughout the towering hall. Noctis spares a subtle glance for Ignis, wondering if he missed some massive information in the last five meetings he skipped, but Ignis looks as stoically surprised as the rest of the table. Noctis doesn’t bother turning around to check with Gladiolus, who stands back along the wall like Noctis’ second shadow. If Ignis doesn’t know, no one does.

Cor clear his throat and gestures behind him—two soldiers slip off around a side-door while Cor continues, “You’ll have to see what I mean. He appears to be some form of hybrid, with claws no larger than a common housecat, which he didn’t even use against any of our soldiers. In fact, he seemed quite displeased with his Niflheim companions. Once we realized this, we employed a gentler hand, and once he realized that we intended to treat him with as much respect as Lucis affords it prisoners, he seemed all too happy to return with us.” As Cor makes his report, the two soldiers return, a thin blond pinched right between them. He isn’t bound in any way, just weaponless while each guard keeps one hand on their gun, and he’s stopped several meters from the table. Noctis’ eyes immediately fix on him.

Everyone in the hall looks at him. But Noctis is the one he looks back at. His chin lifts, blue eyes skimming quickly over everyone else before they come to Noctis, and then they bore right back into him, while the man’s pale cheeks flush pink beneath his freckles. His hair is a startling shade of sunshine yellow, his body lithe and fit. He can’t be much older than Noctis, and he might be just a smidgen taller. He’s dressed in plain black pants and a tight-fitting, sleeveless shirt, with nothing else, though he looks like the type that could style himself well enough if given the chance—his hair is flicked up with attractive flare. The only part of him that’s truly _different_ , other than his colouring, is the blond set of triangular ears fixed atop his head, his hair brushed over where a human’s ears would go, and the long, trim tail draped down behind him. He looks docile enough, though he shifts with nervous energy from one foot to the other as his new hosts study him. Then his eyes finally fall away, fixing between his feet, and his arms cross over his chest. Noctis catches a barcode etched onto one wrist.

“He calls himself Prompto,” Cor adds, though the hybrid—Prompto—looks perfectly capable of speaking for himself. “You can see why we didn’t want to just throw him in with the others. Aside from being a little uppity on the transport, he hasn’t needed any restraints, and he hasn’t caused any trouble. Besides, I’m reluctant to reunite Verstael with any of his toys.” Prompto winces at the word—Noctis thinks he would too.

Noctis’ eyes have returned to Cor, but he can see in his peripherals that Prompto’s resumed eyeing him. Noctis gets the feeling that if he returned the stare, Prompto would quickly look away again, even though his interest is all too obvious.

For a while, the two of them play that almost literal cat and mouse game, while the council picks up in a flurry. Noctis only half listens to them, as usual, because some have good but exhaustive suggestions, and others are just useless. One man clamours to lock the boy up on the grounds that he must be some sort of plant, meant to trick them into lowering their guard over his adorable visage. Prompto visibly balks at this, while another insists that this marvel of science should be immediately shunted off for further study, which has Prompto looking even more distressed. Another counters that any such actions against a sentient being are exactly the sort of atrocious crimes befitting Niflheim. Ignis says nothing. Gladiolus would probably reject any ‘security risk,’ no matter how harmless they looked. And Regis listens to everyone whilst quietly regarding their catch. 

It’s when someone actually suggests they send Prompto to the zoo that Noctis loudly clears his throat. The table falls gradually quiet, likely as much from surprise as respect—it’s rare for Noctis to contributing to their meetings. But he usually doesn’t _care_ , and this is different.

He tells the room, “I’ll take him.”

Prompto’s ears perk straight up to the ceiling. A bright smile flitters across his flushed face, so gorgeous that it’s almost dizzying. Noctis looks away and pretends to be unaffected by it. Ignoring the stunned looks of those around him, Noctis directs at his father, “Weren’t you just saying the other day that I should get a pet to teach me responsibility? Well, we’ve got one.”

Somewhere right between cool and cold, Regis tells him, “A sentient human hybrid is hardly a _pet_ , least of all one created by the enemy.”

In Noctis’ peripherals, Prompto’s wilting. Noctis turns to Ignis, gaze burning and heavy with the unspoken order: _help me_. Usually that look can overcome Ignis’ own better judgment.

Indeed, Ignis pushes his glasses up his nose and smoothly answers, “If I may, Your Majesty—It seems our commander believes this young man bears no loyalty to the enemy, which would be consistent with the notion that he was forcibly experimented on by them; I cannot imagine someone willingly submitting themselves to such treatment.” He pauses, as though waiting for his king’s objection, but when it doesn’t come, he continues, “Furthermore, it does seem we are rather in a bind as to what to do with him. I would not condone imprisoning a victim of our enemy, in any case. And if he truly does retain animal characteristics, he’ll need someone to take care of him.”

Noctis turns an intense, imploring look back to his father, but before a decision can be made, Prompto bursts out in a gritty, jovial voice, “And I’ll be a great pet, honest! I’ll be super obedient, and I won’t ruin any of—uh—his?—furniture!”

One of the guards at his side barks, “Quiet,” and Prompto slams his mouth shut, but the damage is done. Noctis is already fighting a smile. He was hoping the guy had some life in him.

The hall is again silent, though now Prompto’s leaning forward, eyeing Noctis with nearly painful longing. It gives Noctis a spot of pride, even though he knows he’s the only one near Prompto’s age at the table. Prompto could still be eyeing Ignis instead, who’s attractive enough, or even Gladio. But Prompto seems to have eyes only for Noctis.

The king’s lifted his brow at the display, but it takes him a while to say, “It would still be foolish to allow an unknown element around my son.” Prompto’s pink lips open in a little ‘o’—maybe he didn’t realize he was pleading for a prince.

When it comes to his father and things he _really_ wants, Noctis doesn’t give up so easy. He pushes, “What’ve you been making me train for if I can’t even handle a cat?” Pausing to look over his shoulder, Noctis prompts Gladio, “Tell him.”

Gladio gives him a thinly veiled glare, clearly displeased at being asked to confront his king, but he does begrudgingly admit, “He doesn’t look like much of a threat, sire.”

“I’m totally not!” Prompto splutters again. “I just want—um, f... friends...” He trails off with another embarrassed blush, while Noctis’ chest clenches. On anyone else, he’d probably find such a display pathetic. But on this one captured kitten, it makes his stomach churn with uncomfortable emotions. 

The positive side is that Noctis can see the pity in his father’s face. After a long moment, King Regis sighs, “Very well.” Prompto instantly perks up again, though Regis stresses, “We will _try_ that arrangement, at least until we can decide on a better place for him.” 

Prompto makes a delighted noise and punches the air in a show of victory. Before his handlers can stop him, he’s bolted across the hall, scrambled behind the councilors that instantly jerk to their feet, but then he’s on his knees beside Noctis’ chair with his arms tight around Noctis’ waist. It’s probably the most affectionate hug Noctis has had in his entire life, and it’s definitely the weirdest.

Trying hard not to blush at the public attention, Noctis pats Prompto’s head. Prompto promptly purrs and snuggles into Noctis’ middle, eyes crinkled with joy. His delirium’s infections.

One by one, the council members settle down. Noctis’ father already looks exasperated, but that’s hardly a downside. Ignis is giving Prompto a thoughtful look, and Gladio’s probably watching him like hawk. 

Noctis tunes them all out. The meeting goes on a little longer, and he pets his new cat until they’re free to go.


End file.
